


romantic cheesecake feeding

by capn (deprimo)



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Ambiguous Relationships, Fluff, M/M, Pining, ambiguous as in you have to squint, jealous asahi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-02 21:16:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15804735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deprimo/pseuds/capn
Summary: “Sir,” he starts. Asahi quirks an eyebrow, silently allowing him to continue. “You are, at least, aware of the exact nature of this establishment, hopefully?”Asahi blinks. “Huh?” His head tilts in confusion. “Exact nature? But… thisisa butler café, right? I mean, with the suits and all that.”A hesitant nod. “Yes, that is correct. But, have you tried perhaps, checking the bottom part of the menu? You might want to see that if you’d like to avail of our, ah… services.”He gives the butler a weird look, but does as he’s told. And his eyes do drop to the bottom of the menu, and suddenly he feels like he wants nothing more than like dunno, strangle the butler? Shout and walk out? Or maybe lock Kisumi in a chokehold?“…Water, please,” Asahi grits out after a momentary pause. He’s pretty sure his cheeks are on flame right now. “Just water. None of the uh, things. At the bottom. Please.”





	romantic cheesecake feeding

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this is my first free fic, which is also known as mutiny of marron because why not? anywho this is a lil rusty, but ive beta-d and re-written this now so i hope you guys enjoy this! also i love asakisu-

Maybe he’s really dedicated, or maybe he’s just plain idiotic. Either way, with the current situation he’s gotten himself into, Asahi can very much declare with confidence that what he’s doing is a mix of both.

At least.

An exasperated sigh escapes his lips. He cannot, for his life, fathom how he ended up in this kind of predicament. Supposedly, he was going to head over to the university for practice after his weekend plans got cancelled. A twist of events occurred then, and now he finds himself sitting in one of the secluded corners of a stupid café.

Bringing the menu closer to his face, Asahi stares hard at the characters neatly lining up the laminated paper, at the colorful array of cutout cakes and smoothies. The food here looks really nice; it’s something he’ll want to post on Instagram if he bothered to create an account, but the problem is…

Asahi feels his face twist into a grimace. _It’s expensive._

Never mind that, though. He doesn’t really have an intention of ordering in this place; it just so happened that the aforementioned twist of event was simply him stumbling onto this café, and that’s that. Besides, he forgot his wallet, and the only money he has are enough for train fare and only couple of snacks.

Pray tell him, though, are the cakes made of caviar? It’s ridiculous!

 _No wonder_ he _has so much money_ , Asahi thinks with a bitter note. He doesn’t know if he’s resentful of the fact that said  _he_ is earning much more than him—or hell, even simply earning — or of something deeper. But he only shrugs the thought away.  _It’s_ _not that deep._

Fixing his beanie, Asahi adjusts the face mask higher up his nose and peeks up from the menu. He surveys the area around him: with the wooden furniture and the rather cutesy but nonetheless average decoration, the whole setup looks like your typical café, alright. However, as his eyes narrow from the observation, Asahi notices something’s off as he examines the place once more.

The customers sitting about… they’re mostly girls. No boys. Asahi is at least a hundred percent sure that he’s the _only_ guy in the room.

Well, aside from the ones in butler uniforms roaming around, that is.

Asahi leans back in his seat, processing the information. So. _He_ works in this kind of setting. Asahi doesn’t know if he’s dedicated or plain idiotic that he wants to know more things about Kisumi, his best friend of six years, to the point of seeming like a stalker just to spy on him. Which is ridiculous, because they’ve been best friends for exactly _six_ years already, dude! What else does he not know about him?

Aside from the fact that — from what he’s gathered with his own two eyes — he’s working in a damn butler café?

He feels bothered, somehow. It’s strange, how the slightest annoyance is starting to boil beneath his skin, but what can he say? Kisumi is working in a butler café, and Asahi didn’t know, because _he_ didn’t spill anything. To his best friend. Simple as that. Asahi shoves the menu back to his face, fingers clutching the laminated paper more tightly. It’s not like he’s going to judge Kisumi for that, but fuck—

_Kisumi is working in a fucking butler café._

And he didn’t tell Asahi.

“Sir, is there anything you’d like to—?”

“Shut up,” Asahi snaps. His face immediately grows apprehensive when he sees surprise cross a butler’s face, feeling his stomach drop as he yelps. Waving his hands in a frantic motion, Asahi quickly pulls down his mask. “Sorry, sorry! I want nothing. Just… water. Please.”

The butler nods, giving him a reluctant press of the lips in lieu of a smile. He doesn’t immediately leave, though. There’s curiosity in his eyes amidst the unease on his expression, prompting Asahi to fix him a questioning look. Under the scrutiny of his stare, the butler fixes the cuff of his suit with an uncomfortable clearing of his throat.

“Sir,” he starts. Asahi quirks an eyebrow, silently allowing him to continue. “Forgive me if this seems intruding, but you are, at least, aware of the exact nature of this establishment, hopefully?”

Asahi blinks. “Huh?” His head tilts in confusion. “Exact nature? But… this _is_ a butler café, right? I mean, with the suits and all that.”

A hesitant nod. “Yes, that is correct. But, have you tried perhaps, checking the bottom part of the menu? You might want to see that if you’d like to avail of our, ah… services.”

He gives the butler a weird look, but does as he’s told. And his eyes do drop to the bottom of the menu, and suddenly he feels like he wants nothing more than like dunno, strangle the guy? Shout and walk out? Or maybe lock Kisumi in a chokehold?

“…Water, please,” Asahi grits out after a momentary pause. He’s pretty sure his cheeks are on flame right now. “Just water. None of the uh, things. At the bottom. Please.”

He reckons that the butler was pleased by his reaction, because when the latter sets off, there’s an amused smile playing on his lips. Asahi may or may not have wanted to chuck the menu at the back of his head, because what the hell did the butler just introduce to him.

(And the fact that he had the gall to smirk at his reaction? The  _audacity._ )

Asahi’s pretty sure he’s staring holes at the table when he brings his hands together. He is also certain that aside from his flushed cheeks, he may or may not be having a sort of crisis. Right now, he doesn’t know how to feel about whatever has transpired. He’s pretty much thankful no one’s approached him after what’s happened, because really, if there’s anything to go by his aura, it’s almost murderous.

Especially as his eyes trail down the menu, because aside from the overpriced cakes and the now-possibly crappy smoothies, Asahi discovers that it’s not _only_ overpriced cakes and possibly crappy smoothies that the café is offering.

_Romantic Onigiri Feeding with your choice of two butlers? Really, Kisumi? Are you fucking kidding me?_

The feeling that Asahi set aside earlier has planted itself in his chest now. It’s buzzing with irritation that formed from the prior annoyance, because hell. Kisumi… his best friend of _six_ years… didn’t bother to tell him about working in a goddamn _boy’s love_ butler café. No texts, no calls, no nothing! And it’s only because he followed Kisumi to work in his poor excuse of a disguise—which now sounds really creepy, damn it—that he found out about _this_.

The bottom part of the menu that the butler was talking about.

All the times Kisumi’s cancelled their weekly hang-outs, just for this. Seriously, just for this? This… this stupid “romantic onigiri feeding” to entertain thirsty fangirls… with other guys… in exchange for their precious time for hanging out?

What do sexy servants in suits have that’s better than his amazing presence, huh?

Asahi heaves a pained sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as the butler from earlier sets his water down the table. “Damn it, Kisumi,” he mutters, hand dropping down to grip at the base of the glass. “You could’ve just eaten a fuckin’ onigiri on your own. You’re gonna be the death of me.”

He knows what he’s saying is irrational—Kisumi _does_ need the income, after all. Those art supplies aren’t going to buy themselves, and since they’re stepping into the second semester of university, of course his art projects are bound to become harder. Asahi just can’t tamp down the feeling in his chest after discovering his line of work. It’s just—he’s worried for his best friend,  _okay_ , like what if something bad happens to him because of—

A squeal resounds from one of the customers, and Asahi’s eyes snap up to the source. All of the sudden, the butler who’s served him earlier is now lying on top of another guy, and _holy shit what the fuck is happening did he just grab his face oh my shit is he kissing the other guy—_

Asahi squawks in surprise, eyes averting away from the sight as he covers his mouth. He thinks he’s heard a few staffs and customers giggle at him, and damn it, his cheeks feel really hot, and he knows he’s supposed to feel embarrassed and all that, and fine, this _is_ a boy’s love café, alright, but the only thing on his mind is Kisumi—

(If Kisumi lets other guys do that to him, too?)

 _Gah! Shake away that thought!_ Asahi pulls his mask back up to shield his face, which he’s positive is burning right now. He rests his face on his hands and sighs, willing the heat to subside. It doesn’t help that his chest has grown heavier and irritation starts to flare up, because even as he commands himself to stop thinking about him, all Asahi can imagine now is Kisumi, and Kisumi with another guy on top of him, grabbing his face and bringing it closer to the other’s, and Kisumi with his stupid pink hair, grinning just before the distance closes—

Asahi slaps the sides of his head, fingers gripping his beanie, mouth opening to scream—

“Asahi?”

_And there he is._

“Kisumi!” Asahi sputters out.

There he is, standing in front of him. Eyes turned up at the corners, wide and gleaming in surprise, purple irises vivid under the bright lights of the all-too-typical café. His normally messy pink hair swept back in gentle waves, curling at his nape and framing his face more nicely than Asahi is willing to admit. Lips jutted out just the slightest bit into a pout as he stares at Asahi and as Asahi gapes at him. And his outfit…

Asahi can feel his irritation slowly fizzling out.

The butler outfit suits him well. Too well, actually. And _shit_ , he even has those gloves on.

Asahi has to refrain himself from shouting once again. _Calm down. Remember who you are. Remember the reason as to why you’re here._

“Er… Asahi?”

Asahi swoops an accusing finger at the pink-haired butler. “You!” This isn’t Kisumi, his best friend of six years—this is—this is someone else! Transformed into this butler, an impostor, who simply looks like his best friend! Who somehow looks really... nice!

“Me?” Kisumi points at himself. His lower lip juts out even more as his perplexity appears more evident. Asahi breaks his gaze away from Kisumi’s mouth. Ignoring his pounding heart, he yanks down his mask and waggles his finger at the male.

“Yes, you! You’re working here!”

Kisumi blinks, bewildered at the other’s reaction. Then, as if realizing the meaning behind his words, a flash of guilt crosses his face—one of which Asahi doesn’t miss—before his countenance transforms to that of sheepish. His shoulders rise up as he rubs the back of his head in bashfulness. “Er, surprise? This is one of my clubs?”

“Clubs? Seriously?” Asahi throws his hands up. He’s fairly certain that they’ve gathered an audience with how much noise he’s making, but even then he can’t bring himself to care. “You working at a boy’s love butler café— _clubs_?”

Asahi’s gaze flickers down yet again when Kisumi taps his lips, thoughtful. “Well, an upperclassman from club _did_ recommend me to try it out. Besides,” Kisumi slides into the seat across Asahi, “the environment’s great, and I get a lot of money from doing this, which means more money for my art supplies. It’s a win-win.”

A pleasant smile is playing on Kisumi’s lips, seemingly unbothered, and after Asahi searches his face, he figures that Kisumi’s telling the truth.

Conceding, he slumps in his seat. “I don’t get why you didn’t tell me, though,” he grumbles. “You know I wouldn’t judge you, right?”

“Oh, no, I wasn’t worrying about that,” Kisumi giggles, flapping a hand.At the sight of Asahi’s expression, his chortles turn into laughs. “Your nostrils are flaring, Asahi—ow, don’t kick me!”

“Don’t be so nonchalant about it! Tell me why.”

“Demanding, aren’t we?” Kisumi grins. “Anyway,” he says, bringing a finger to his lips and winking, “that’s a secret I’ll tell for another time.”

Asahi’s mouth gapes open like a fish. “You…!”

“Hm?” Innocent. Kisumi’s propped an elbow as he watches Asahi with an innocent smile on his face, looking unaffected as if he’s done nothing wrong. It only annoys Asahi even further, _infuriates_ him, because how dare he? It’s really unfair, and just… _how dare he_?

“For what, Asahi?”

Brows furrowed, Asahi blinks at Kisumi. “Hah?”

Coy. Everything’s suddenly coy, because Kisumi’s leaning close into his space, and Kisumi’s smile is telling something, and Asahi feels the breath getting knocked out of him. Kisumi’s eyes, bright and vivid and purple, gleaming as they peer at Asahi beneath thick lashes,boring holes into Asahi’s very soul.

“How dare me, for what?” Kisumi’s voice is barely above a whisper. “Tell me, Asahi.”

His throat has basically gone dry. No matter how much he tries not to stare, Asahi can’t bring himself to look away. All the incidents before, brushed away from his mind, because there’s something magnetic about the person in front of him that compels Asahi to focus on him—only on him.

His heart is starting to beat really fast. For some reason, his eyes don’t stray from Kisumi. He isn’t physically able to, not when Kisumi looks like that: hair swept back so his eyes are openly gazing into Asahi’s own, trapping it, lower lip tucked under his teeth as he gently bites it down. Tongue sweeping out to lick at soft lips as his eyes trail down to Asahi’s mouth, before locking stares once again. The corners of his lips teasing upwards into the slightest smile, as if he just knows what kind of reaction he elicited from Asahi just from that.

He wants to jerk back, but Asahi’s too frozen to even move. Kisumi’s fingers find themselves threading into and playing with Asahi’s hair, and shit, it’s dizzying, with how Asahi almost leans into the touch before he has the right mind to stop himself. He stares at the light fixture above instead, just so he won’t be able to stare at Kisumi.

“Hey…” He hears laughter Kisumi’s voice. “Hey, why aren’t you looking at me? Look at me, Asahi.” And damn himself, because he does. A chuckle spills out of Kisumi’s mouth, low and significant. His eyes are bright behind hooded lids. Asahi is rendered speechless.

“You’re here because you followed me, didn’t you? I saw you earlier back there. Don’t worry, I pretended not to see you. But I wonder… why would Asahi-kun follow me here?”

Head tilted, purple eyes going dark with deliberate appraisal as Kisumi watches Asahi carefully. “You couldn’t have possibly followed me to have fun with the others, didn’t you?” His hands slide down the planes of Asahi’s face, and Asahi feels his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “You couldn’t have possibly known that I work here… especially when we weren’t hanging out lately.” He watches the smile on Kisumi’s face grow—that sweet, honeyed smile—as his thumb gently presses against Asahi’s lips.

_This is escalating way too quickly._

His heart is threatening to leak out of his throat. Kisumi’s cradling his face, bringing it closer, and Asahi can only gawk at him, Kisumi with his stupid pink hair, grinning as the distance is closing between them—

“Asahi-kun…”

His eyes shutter close as he braces himself.

“You should try one of our cheesecakes.”

Asahi’s eyes fly open as Kisumi leans back, and he stares skywards. _Unbelievable. What the hell did you just expect, Shiina Asahi._

When he returns his gaze back to his best friend of six years, whose cheeks are blown as an attempt to stifle his laughter, his stare is nothing short of homicidal. Because right now, he would very much like to strangle one Shigino Kisumi for every pulling _that_ stunt on him. In a boy’s love café. Where there are customers and employees staring.

“Hey…” Kisumi pipes up, and there’s the familiar tone of laughter in his voice as he continues, “the customers— _haha_ —they filmed this, y’know.”

_That’s it._

“You complete… and utter _bag of dicks_!”

“Now, now, that’s a pretty mean thing to say, Asahi!” Kisumi chides. Nonetheless, there’s a grin fixed on his face and a giggle still manages to bubble up his throat, then suddenly, he’s laughing; Kisumi’s brought up a fist to cover his hysterics, but his shoulders are shaking, and Asahi’s frustration only grows even further. Before he knows it, he’s grabbing Kisumi by the neck with his arms, locking him in a chokehold, shaking him, shouting of “mutiny against Marron!” and “you could’ve just worked part-time there, y’know!” and “stop laughing, goddammit!” and Kisumi—he still doesn’t stop, still can’t stop _laughing_.

“Y-Your face, Asahi-kun!”

“ _Stop._ This is betrayal against me and my _sister_.”

“Don’t bring your sister into this!” Kisumi laughs. “I know you’re just jealous—waitwaitwait, Asahi, _your arms_! Cheesecake! I’ll treat you to—cheesecake! Just— _haha_ —stop!”

 

* * *

 

Glaring daggers at the pink-haired butler in front of him, Asahi takes a begrudging bite of the cheesecake suspended in front of him. Kisumi slides the fork back out once Asahi’s eaten his portion, and he slices another piece before eating it for himself. Kisumi’s eyes crinkle and his lips curl happily at the bite, but Asahi can only stare at the fork that entered Kisumi’s mouth. The very utensil that went inside his own mouth, now inside Kisumi’s—

“Asahi, your nostrils are flaring.”

“ _Shut your mouth._ ”

“Oh? Were you staring?” Snickering, Kisumi fends off Asahi’s arm with his fork, laying his chin on his palms afterwards as he chews on his food. “It’s good, right? The cheesecake.”

“Not better than Marron’s,” Asahi grumbles, voice muffled as he steals the fork from Kisumi and takes another bite. He tries very hard not to slide it between his own lips when he pulls it out, just like Kisumi had done earlier. He fails to do so. “I mean, it’s expensive, but like. It’s passable enough.”

“It’s adorable how you keep defending your sister’s café even when this one clearly is superio—kidding, kidding, Asahi!”

“I can shove this fork down your throat, y’know.”

Asahi’s expecting a reply from Kisumi, but he’s surprised when the latter just hums, eyeing him with contemplation. He grows awkward under Kisumi’s stare, so Asahi takes another bite of the cheesecake and makes a face towards him instead.

“Whaddya want—”

“I was saving up for that trip that you really wanted to go to,” Kisumi says all of the sudden. His fingers are playing with the straw of his drink, eyes drawn to the table. There’s a tint to his cheeks that Asahi doesn’t know if he’s imagining or not, but even with his confusion, and from the small smile on the other’s face, Asahi is certain of the prospect that Kisumi almost seems shy.

“Hah?”

“Why I’m working here, I mean.”

Asahi’s mouth drops open. He isn’t aware of how many times his mouth dropped open today, of how many times Kisumi’s surprised him. “O-Oh. Not for the art supplies?”

“Well, that, too but—yeah!” Kisumi perks up, bright and playful once more. “You’re lucky this is my last day. After this, I’m all yours again.”

“S-Shut up! You can go back here whenever you want, I don’t care.”

“Oh, so you certainly don’t mind me getting close and getting fed by other guys, hm?”

“You can do those yourself!” Asahi says that, but Kisumi’s grin is too smug, too meaningful, to ever try to deny the fact that yeah, even after all these, in the end, Asahi’s missed hanging out with him. Simply being present with him. And he knows that Kisumi’s aware of that fact very well, so he pulls his mask back up to his face, and avoiding Kisumi’s eyes, gathers his courage.

“A-And…” Asahi lets out an exhale.“We could just do those instead when we hang out. Damn you.”

The beam that Kisumi gives him is brighter, sweeter than the cheesecake melting in his mouth. Underneath the mask, Asahi smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> so after three months of not updating my other work... i come back with asakisu! ive written this in one night tho and tbh i have no regrets. just want to let yall know that asakisu is hella adorable and 100% valid. if you enjoyed this fic, please lemme know! feedback is much appreciated and also 100% valid <3 thank you sm for reading!
> 
> ps. kisumi is definitely that confident gay


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